


Lay Me Down (to sleep)

by MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Team Cap - Freeform, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOne/pseuds/MarvelousMenagerie
Summary: Tony faces the aftermath of Civil War side-by-side with T'challa, and it turns into the one of the very few highlights of his life. He couldn't face tracking the whereabouts of Team Cap, not yet - but with a surprise visit to Wakanda, he manages it anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from the lovely irxnpanther (tumblr here:x), and I hadn't realized I even shipped Tony & T'challa...

Patience has always been Rhodey’s virtue, not Tony’s.

The leg prosthetics are designed, tested, and upgraded six times over a full three weeks before doctors were comfortable outlining a timeline for Rhodey to even use prosthetics. But muscles and ligaments can’t be healed with just one more all-night binge or a hijacking of a third of the R&D department. Retraining the human body to walk takes time - time that Tony can’t rush for a problem he can’t fix.

But Tony is with Rhodey every step, every fall. There are good days and bad days but Tony, in mirror image of MIT days, lends a shoulder every time Rhodey needs someone to lean on. He waits, patient during the times that Rhodey can’t be.

Patience is still not Tony’s virtue, guilt swamps him every time Rhodey falls - and Ross, the UN, the press want updates and meetings and interviews about the Accords and Avengers and Stark Industries and -

T’challa is who Tony leans on, who keeps him standing through it all.

“I owe you one,” Tony admits as he leans back and loosens his tie. His work at the office isn’t done yet, but the six o’clock news plays on a screen in front of him. Highlights of T’challa’s speech play as he promises additional monetary support to the reconstruction of the Leipzig airport behind him. Support that Tony will match, but now the Germans and the SI board of directors are happy with T’challa seeing to one and Tony the other.

“You do,” T’challa agrees, his voice masking the news reporter. Tony waves the audio off the news as it goes onto the next segment. “I will accept nothing less than dinner with me when I land.”

“I think you mean breakfast, then,” Tony says. He checks the clock . If Germany is six hours ahead and T’challa should be taking off within the hour then -

“Breakfast and dinner is also acceptable.”

Tony feels a small, sincere smile creep across his face, the first in what feels like a very long time. “As long as doughnuts are acceptable to Your Kingliness, I think I can manage that.”

The next day, Tony and T’challa face Ross and the UN side by side. It makes Tony’s heart ache, the way it is so similar to when he and Pepper face down uncooperative boards or overly ambitious competitors. This battle is not something they can win - but he and T’challa are at least holding ground, soothing feathers and preventing political backlash on those who did sign the Accords.

Dinner, Tony decides, is Italian. He has a variety of dishes from one of his favorite restaurants delivered to the mansion, where he and T’challa sample each one from on top of the roof. The sun has long set, but the moon is bright enough that Tony can help T’challa avoid pieces of eggplant. T’challa explains how scientists in Wakanda are working to incorporate small amounts of vibranium into bridges to prevent decay and collapse. Tony tosses out questions and ideas that T’challa notes down, before rambling on about his own forays into prosthetics. They talk of anything but their next political move - that is saved for tomorrow.

Starlight shines on T’challa’s face as he smiles, and Tony swears he is only focusing on T’challa’s mouth because his teeth are so bright and white - but when T’challa leans forward Tony meets him halfway.

He is tired, too tired to deny himself something he wants. Too tired to remind T’challa that Tony isn’t someone to be wanted. Too tired, especially as T’challa’s lips meeting his causes a slow wave of warmth traveling from his head to his toes. Tony sinks into the warmth, into the kiss, as he presses in as T’challa pulls him closer. Tony is kissed deliberately, slowly - like this was a step of a battle plan, which makes a part of Tony laugh as he himself never saw this in his future - but Tony pulls back, because he can only be reckless and ask, “Shall we take this downstairs?”

Step by step, Rhodey relearns to walk. Tony and Pepper relearn how to communicate. T’challa learns how difficult it is to be in a relationship with Tony.

Tony would like to state, for the record, that he isn’t the only one surprised when T’challa doesn’t run away.

“You owe me dinner now. Actually, at least two dinners,” Tony declares as soon as T’challa answers his phone.

“Did it go that poorly?” T’challa replies, voice low and affectionate in a way that still causes Tony to smile.

“Vanity Fair was there, you know it doesn’t matter what I say.” Tony holds back a sigh, barely, and whips a balled up hologram at the trash an across the room. FRIDAY adjusts as needed so it backboards into the can with a satisfying thunk.

“I will be there to defend you next time,” T’challa replies, and Tony can hear his smile. The verbal barbs that he can imagine T’challa flinging right back at that magazine make him smile, too.

“Protect me, my king,” Tony teases as he flips a wrench in his hand.

“Do not call me that,” T’challa replies, his voice a command. “Not when you are so far away.”

Tony grins. “Oh, my apologies - my king,” he purrs.

“Tony,” T’challa warns, voice strained. “I have a meeting with my advisors in twenty minutes.”

Tony unbuttons his jeans. “Then you’d better be fast in telling me exactly what you’d do if I was right there on my knees in front of you…”

T’challa has to rule a country, Tony an international company. On top of that they’re holding, holding, holding ground against Ross and the UN. New York, Sokovia, Lagos, Leipzig, Siberia. Explaining, justifying, apologizing, endless circles on repeat. Preventing a witch hunt for those with burgeoning powers and going on peacekeeping missions when beckoned.

Wakanda enters the international community with a lukewarm but positive welcome. Stark Industries stock finally starts to go back up.

“I’ll be much better without your hovering. Go. Surprise your royal boyfriend,” Rhodey orders, literally shoving Tony into his jet. Tony is equally pleased that Rhodey is capable of standing and shoving Tony anywhere, and that the destination of the jet is Wakanda.

He dodges T’challa’s calls during the entire flight, but is still met on the landing strip by His Highness and royal escort.

“Tony. Welcome,” T’challa says with a warm smile and open arms.

Tony enters them with only a second of hesitation. The world doesn’t know them, not like this, not yet - not until the Accords are less fragile, superhero reputations regained. But Wakanda is still safe, the people loyal to their king.

“Surprise,” Tony informs him with a laugh. T’challa’s arms tighten for a moment before he steps back.

“And a pleasant one. Come - let me give you the grand tour. I’ll have someone arrange a trip to the labs for you tomorrow.”

Wakanda is beautiful. Tony loves living in New York and Malibu and even Boston - the city around the palace, and Wakanda itself, is not like the homes he’s used to. It’s different, and he likes it. He tells T’challa so, and he gets a broad smile and a long, sleepless night in return.

Tony rouses to a hand sliding up and down along his ribcage and a whisper in his ear, “I will meet you for lunch, go back to sleep.”

“Bossy,” Tony murmurs back and drifts off again, but not before feeling a kiss on his forehead.

Tony wakes again, this time alone, and stretches out in the large, empty bed. He briefly checks his email - nothing labeled ‘URGENT. I mean it, Tony!’ from Pepper, so he closes out again. A shower and change of clothes later has him padding to the kitchen, where he gets a glass of orange juice and a chef that starts making him pancakes. With a request to come back in fifteen minutes for the finished product, Tony wanders down the hall peeking into rooms silently hoping to find the throne room. T’challa had sidestepped answering where it was, so now Tony definitely wants to find it.

What he does find makes him do a double-take.

Steve sits at the table reading a newspaper. Sam is watching TV, and Wanda and Clint are on the floor playing a game of checkers.

Tony feels his heart pounding, his breathing labored. He rubs his eyes, but the vision doesn’t go away.

Steve glances up, then does a double-take. “Tony!” he calls out, lurching to his feet so abruptly that his chair tumbles backwards to the floor.

The rest of them stand up, staring at Tony. He takes them all in, blinking - Wanda’s hands curl forward, Clint’s fingers twitch, Sam edges back. And Steve - Steve stands, shoulders back, chest out, like he’s facing down a firing squad.

Tony takes a sip of his orange juice, sliding one hand into his pocket to hide its trembling. He brought a suit - he left it on the jet, but it’s here and with a gesture it could be on the way if needed. “Well,” he says, licking his lips, “it’s a small world after all.”

“Hey guys! Doreen was making pancakes and I snagged a bunch - who wants one?” the guy - whatever his name was, the one that changes size on a whim that would make Bruce jealous - barrels past Tony with a plate piled high with pancakes. Pancakes that were supposed to be for Tony.

“Scott,” Clint barks out, gesturing at Tony.

Scott turns, and the plate dips so that some of the pancakes tumble to the floor. “Oh shit.”

Tony’s heartbeat pounds louder and louder in his head.

“Is Ross with you?” Steve finally asks.

Tony pulls his lips back, managing to make a sharp grin instead of a snarl. “No. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’m hoping he’ll propose when I get back.”

“Tony!”

Tony turns, keeping one eye on his ex-teammates as T’challa strides towards him. “What the fuck is this?” he asks, voice low. “Really. What the fuck?”

“I thought you knew,” T’challa says. He keeps his eyes on Tony, but edges forward in between Tony and the rest of them. Protecting them from Tony, or Tony from them? “I thought you had traced them here and knew, when you helped keep that patrol out of Wakanda.”

Tony hadn’t known. He hadn’t tracked the team, hadn’t wanted to know. It was one thing too much - another decision, another responsibility. Turn them over, intentionally misdirect Ross, or simply not interfere? Another burden, and ignorance had been bliss when he’d been grilled on that issue in front of the UN - no one had believed him because he had been so giddy that he could say ‘I don’t know’ and have it be true.

Tony had only kept the agents out of Wakanda because that was what T’challa had wanted.

Exhaustion swamps him - so suddenly he sways on his feet. He is tired like he hasn’t been since before - since before. He had dismissed the idea that T’challa was playing a political game with him. There were easier ways to make friends and distract Tony - vibranium, for example. T’challa didn’t need to risk the scandal of an affair with Tony Stark. It had to be real…

“Tony,” T'challa begins, voice soft. A plea.

And Tony - is too tired. Too tired to face every conversation, every look, every touch and figure out if it had been real or a misdirect. Too tired to analyze whether T'challa has been working against the Accords the entire time. Too tired to believe that whatever explanation is coming is actually the truth.

Tony turns, dodging T’challa’s outstretched arm with a step. He walks away, calling the suit with a gesture.

“Is he going to call Ross?” he hears. He ignores it, along with T'challa calling his name.


End file.
